


Love and War

by Tallulah



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous Relationships, Drunken Kissing, Drunkenness, F/M, Infidelity, Loneliness, M/M, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-09-24 07:25:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17096369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tallulah/pseuds/Tallulah
Summary: Raito Yagami and Misa Amane are getting married. Ide's never been fond of weddings. Matsuda adores them. Either way, everyone is very happy, or so it seems to the onlooker.





	1. Outside, Night

Ide had never been very fond of weddings. 

They combined all the unpleasant elements of most parties (bad music, pointless small talk, odd and distasteful food that no one could actually want to eat) with a bunch of irritating aspects unique to weddings (crying relatives, expensive clothes, and the way in which it encouraged everyone you knew to take a good long look at your life and demand to know why there hadn't yet been a wedding there as well).

_I'd just like you to find a nice girl and settle down, Hideki. I just want to see you happy._

But it wasn't as if Ide could have chosen not to attend. He barely saw anyone _but_ Raito and the task force these days, and refusing to go to the man's wedding (when Raito would've known full well he had no real excuse not to) would just have made him look petty and unprofessional. Besides, seeing as pretty much all of his friends, acquaintances and co-workers had taken the plunge by now, he was getting used to gritting his teeth and surviving these occasions.

The sun had set, and the hotel windows were glossy black as if they'd been painted that way. But the party was showing no signs of winding down. Pounding music and half-empty wine glasses and Misa, in what seemed like her fifth dress of the day, dancing in the centre of the room, waving her arms as she sang to the music and almost falling off her high heels. Matsuda, whom Ide suspected was almost as drunk as Misa, was opposite her, trying to mimic her movements and cracking up whenever he failed. Which was often. And the rest of the room was still dotted with clumps of people drinking and chatting and smoking and having a great time. People whom Ide didn't know and didn't particularly want to talk to. 

And Mogi was still getting cornered by people who'd heard he was Misa's manager and wanted the inside gossip, and Aizawa and Eriko had left hours ago because they had the get-out-of-jail-free card of kids and babysitters to be taken care of.

_Oh? No wedding on the horizon for Ide, huh?_

Ide had been trying really hard to at least pretend to be having fun, but if he carried on doing that now he'd have to keep drinking, and then he'd pass the line from slightly dizzy to completely plastered, and this was still a work occasion, much like everything else in his life right now. Because he _wasn't_ having fun and the way everyone else was persisting in doing so, loudly, was starting to make him stupidly furious, and for god's sake, Misa couldn't sing when she was drunk and Matsuda couldn't sing when he was _sober_ and if he didn't get out of here now -

And so he did. 

Outside, the air was much cooler, and the music and noise were just a faint mumble from behind the dark walls of the hotel. He headed down the path, the paving stones seeming to tilt just a little under his feet. They wouldn't, of course; this was a nice hotel, no expense spared. (Although Sachiko Yagami had left soon after the ceremony, because of Raito's sister.) Aizawa's wedding reception had been at some place where the squares of carpet on the floor kept sticking to your feet and the walls were tobacco-coloured. Ide hadn't found that party much fun, either. 

Not that he hadn't been happy for Aizawa, he - 

And not that he had anything against Raito marrying Misa. No. He suspected he just wasn't good with weddings. He'd probably be better if people didn't keep expecting him to like them, and welcome them, and yearn for one of his own. 

_I just want to see my grandchildren before I die, that's not too much to ask, is it?_

Huh. If he ever _did_ get married, he was going to do it quietly. Possibly in secret. Although that'd defeat the point of it, people would still keep nagging. The path led round a corner and round a lawn, lit with white lights. The smell of wet grass, clashing unpleasantly with the too-much-wine taste in his mouth; cold wrought-iron benches at intervals in the shadows; and then, suddenly, Raito Yagami perched on one of them, legs stretched out across the path.

Ide stopped. He wasn't supposed to be out here, he was supposed to be inside celebrating. And he'd never been very good at making small talk with Raito in particular. Raito was too polished, too pleasant. Ide figured people like that were just as grumpy and small-minded as everyone else, only they lied to you, and he didn't like liars. Or maybe he didn't really figure it, maybe it was just that he was drunk. Whatever, he didn't want to talk to Raito...

... except that Raito had noticed him now, and if Ide turned and walked away that would look like he actually had a problem with the guy, which he didn't, and, not to mention _Raito_ was supposed to be inside celebrating. Raito was supposed to be the one dancing with Misa, not abandoning her to have her feet trodden on by Matsuda. And so when Raito smiled at him and said, "Good evening," he didn't shrug and walk on, but instead came closer, and said, "Aren't you supposed to be inside?"

"It's a little noisy in there," Raito said. "Besides, I felt I was cramping Misa's style." A shrug. "I don't have her stamina, when it comes to parties."

Raito was doing that thing where he only admitted to flaws no one would mind having, but Ide had drunk enough that he could blame his usual irritation on the alcohol. (And it was cool and dark out here and there was nowhere else to go but back round the lawn and back inside and back to an empty apartment.)

_It's because you've never been in love, isn't it?_

He sat down on the bench next to Raito, and said, "No doubt Matsuda would say you just haven't drunk enough."

Raito laughed. "He's still dancing the night away, then?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

(And it wasn't like Ide felt any loyalty to Matsuda, or felt like he was really saying anything that cruel, but this still felt... spiteful, maybe just because it was in the dark, and secret.)

"Well... it's good to see people enjoying themselves," Raito said. He glanced over at Ide suddenly. "Are you having a good time?"

(He knew.

And he wanted to make it clear that he knew.)

"Not particularly," Ide said, in retaliation. But Raito just smiled, and said, "No, I thought you weren't. You've never struck me as a party animal."

"I'm not." And Raito _could_ pretend he was happy, if he wanted, Ide had seen him at parties before, why this sudden attempt to make like he hated them? Ide didn't want fake sympathy, and so he said, "But it isn't my wedding." (He'd definitely drunk too much and Raito looked like he hadn't drunk at all.)

"Mm. Tell me, Ide, do you think you'll ever get married?"

"Why is that your business?"

"I'm just making conversation," Raito said, so casually. "After all, this is the happiest day of my life. I should be wanting to see everyone as joyful as I am."

And there _was_ something different about him, there was, he was mocking, he wasn't taking any of it seriously - no, he was behaving as if someone had wronged him and he was choosing to get his own back by being spiteful...

... but Raito was never spiteful, was he?

"Yeah, except you're hiding out here instead of going back to face the music. Are you scared you made a mistake?"

(He'd said that to Aizawa too, the night before his friend had tied the knot, when they'd both been drunk, he'd said a lot of stuff about _are you sure? Are you really, really sure? What if she's crazy deep down? You could be miserable for the rest of your life_. And Aizawa had squinted at him and then said _god, you're fucking smashed_ and -

\- and of course Aizawa hadn't made a mistake, and Ide suspected he had only made the comment because he was tired of weddings.)

"No," Raito said, and he had turned to face Ide now, his eyes shining in the light, and perhaps he _was_ drunk, that would certainly explain things, "No, I don't make mistakes." And then a short laugh, and, "Well, I try not to, and I'd hope I haven't made one with something this important." Trying to act like the guy he normally was, but Ide wasn't buying it, not this time, and he said, "Misa's been after you to take the plunge for a long time now, hasn't she? She cornered you at last?"

Raito leant forward, so suddenly that Ide wondered if the wine had slowed his brain down more than he realised. 

"Misa..." he whispered to Ide, so close that Ide could smell his breath, and yeah, there was a slight hint of wine (and no wonder Raito normally stayed sober), "Misa has not cornered me, because Misa loves me and she'll do exactly what I say. We're deeply in love and we're going to be very, very happy together."

And Ide wanted to pull away because Raito was drunk and stupid and he himself wasn't interested in talking about Misa, wasn't really interested in scoring points off Raito, should maybe just suck it up and go home, but. But somehow wasn't, somehow was completely still, somehow, and then Raito said, leaning even closer, "Did you talk like this to Aizawa when he got married?"

It was _unexpected_ , that was what got to Ide. The sense that Raito was just, just saying things to try and get a reaction, and as he hissed back, "What's Aizawa got to do with anything?" his voice shook, slightly. Raito laughed. He smelt of cologne and smoke. "He's your friend, that's all. If you're this bitter now, with me, how must you have been with him? God, you must have been so jealous."

( _Why can't you grow up?_ Aizawa had said, and then, later, _why are you being so damn weird?_ and then, much, much later, _why the hell did you do that, oh god, what's wrong with you, oh **god** if anyone finds out -_ and Ide hadn't wanted to fuck things up _that_ badly, he wasn't a psychopath, and so he'd said that it was his fault, that he'd been drunk, that Aizawa knew he had no head for alcohol, that everyone did stupid things on the eve of their wedding, and Aizawa had looked so relieved - 

\- and there was no way Raito could know about any of this, but -)

"That's none of your business -"

"So you _were_ jealous."

"Just shut the hell up!" And he was this close to hitting out except you don't punch out the groom unless you expected to be marrying the bride and Raito was so fucking _smug_ and where did he get off acting so damn superior, except _he knows, he must know,_ but screw him, he was no different, lurking out here in the dark, he was no different -

"It must be sad," Raito whispered, so quietly Ide could almost kid himself he'd imagined it, added it in to make Raito look bad, "to be so lonely."

(Which was true)

(Except that Ide wasn't going to let Raito win with that line, because that would _make_ it true)

(But he was drunk, and tired, and angry, and had never been very good at thinking up sarcastic remarks, and however good he was, Raito would be better, and so, and so - 

\- like Raito, he chose an unexpected line of attack -)

(Or maybe he was just drunk and desperate enough, but he pretended afterwards that that never occurred to him.)

He kissed Raito. And he _knew_ it was stupid and immature and dangerous and he didn't even _like_ Raito, especially not now, but he was too angry not to fight back and punching Raito would mean Raito had won -

And then Raito was kissing back, as viciously as Ide himself was, and his breath through his nose was coming in short, fast gasps, and somehow Ide had got one hand on Raito's shoulder, the other tangled in his shirt, and Raito's fingers were digging into his arms, and this was - this was -

(it hardly seemed real, in the dark and the dizziness it hardly seemed real)

Raito was the one who broke the kiss. Broke the kiss and shook Ide off, shuddering. His eyes were very wide now, silver in the light, making him look stupidly young (far too young to be kissed) and he was pale and he swallowed, looked sick.

"Oh, god. Oh, god, what did I - what -"

He glanced around, shaking, as if to check no one was watching.

"Ide, I - god, I'm sorry, I -" 

Rubbed a hand across his mouth; stopped, as if realising that that could be interpreted as rude; drew a deep, shaking breath.

"I've had a little too much to drink," he said at last. "I think - I think I'd better go back inside. Ide, listen... this isn't... this doesn't... I'm not..."

And just like that, Ide realised he'd lost. Because now if he didn't nod and accept Raito's apology and excuse, he'd be... admitting things. Like that this had been a fight. Like that Raito had made him angry. Like that the things Raito said had been -

And you couldn't fight with someone you spent twenty hours a day with, it would be ridiculous.

And for god's sake, why was this happening anyway?

"Forget it," he said. "I've... had too much as well. There's no need to mention it to anyone."

Raito nodded, gratefully. "No. No, there... Anyway, I'd better go and find Misa, I..."

Ide watched him go. The night was too warm, and outside the music thumped. His mouth was dry. 

_You work too hard. Don't you think you should try and meet someone who isn't a cop once in a while?_

But suddenly his apartment wasn't looking so bad. 

And of course, he kept his word and kept his mouth shut, and told himself he had been drunk and that was why the memory of it all seemed so strange. But when it was suggested that Raito could be Kira, Ide realised it had to be true, even though he couldn't explain why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for dn_contest on LiveJournal, prompt "Wedding".


	2. Inside, Candlelit

Under the flashing lights and the cheering and the singing along, Matsuda’s conscious that he is actually _really_ drunk. But it’s, like, wedding-drunk, where you’ve consumed a large amount of alcohol but the happiness and the party atmosphere are kind of carrying you along, and if you are getting the odd word or footstep tangled up no one minds, and it’s only little slip-ups anyway. 

He should probably stop dancing and singing – his throat’s aching, though he can’t really feel it much, and his shirt’s sticking to him – but every time he looks like he’s going to, Misa, radiant in her silver dress (the prettiest yet of all the ones she wore today), grabs his hands and demands he stay for just one more song. Even if he extricates himself to get another drink, or go to the bathroom, or grab some water (something else he should probably be doing more of) she still pounces on him when he comes back. 

That makes it sound like he minds. He doesn’t mind – he doesn’t mind _at all_ , Misa is pretty and sweet, and this is her and Raito’s wedding day and she’s so happy and, and it’s kind of like all the Kira stuff is swept away by this, you know? And he loves dancing and drinking and having a good time and all that. He’s just (only just – the alcohol wraps the worry up in a cocoon) a bit concerned maybe she might want to dance with someone else. Like her husband, for instance.

“Raito doesn’t _like_ parties,” Misa shouted over the music when he tried to explain this to her. “Raito’s _boring_. He told me I could dance as much as I liked but don’t, don’t expect him to, to, you know…” Breaking off into giggles. Matsuda knows he’s really drunk but he’s pretty sure Misa’s even drunker. Well, she’s been kind of matching him drink for drink and she’s tiny, so it’s not surprising. He’s a bit concerned, as well, that if he left her then she might actually hurt herself (she’s fallen off her heels and onto him three times already, and they both found it funny, but all it takes is for her to be on her own and go keeling over into a row of the chairs with white ribbons on and then things will stop being funny. He doesn’t want her to get hurt).

Most of the guests on Misa’s side were people from the entertainment business – other models, people from the agency, that kind of stuff. Matsuda had kind of expected Misa to have more friends from other parts of her life – someone like her must be popular wherever she goes, right? He probably wouldn’t have said that to her face if he weren’t drunk, but she didn’t get mad. “Oh, Misa’s friends stopped talking to her after… you know. Mum and Dad. They couldn’t, they couldn’t _deal_. Also, also! Also, Misa moved here. It’s too far to come. Everyone’s so busy.” They’re sitting down now, Misa waving a glass of champagne around as she speaks. Matsuda’s pretty sure most of it’s ending up on him, but maybe that’s better than her drinking any more of it.

But. Yeah. The point is, most of the guests on her side are colleagues. By now, a bunch of them have left to go onto another party somewhere else. Or something. So, so it would make sense it’s not a girl making sure Misa doesn’t trip over her own feet. And none of her family. Of course none of her family. 

Raito’s still not here.

Raito’s friends, from school and college, were all the super-smart successful types you’d expect them to be. Matsuda had been sitting with some of them on the table plan. It was kind of hard not to keep thinking about how much older he was versus how much less successful he was than them. That was kind of when the drinking started, really, it was that or just say nothing the whole meal because you feel like a dork. You know? You know. This is starting to move from the happy-drunkenness stage into the being-despairing-about-your-life stage, which… doesn’t usually happen at weddings, but the couple of others he’s been to were friends’, and he was in a big group, and everyone else was at about the same stage as he was in life, and they all left together and shared a taxi. Here, it’s actually quietening down: Raito’s intelligent friends making intelligent choices and leaving before they get too drunk, or because they brought their spouses, or because of kids. Aizawa left early because of kids. And Raito’s mum, because of Sayu. And it’s not time to think about the Chief not being here to see this, that’s just going to take you right into being-despairing-about-everything.

The point is that there are only a few people left and most of them look like they’re waiting for taxis and Matsuda doesn’t recognise any of them.

“Hey, did Ide and Mogi leave?” he says to Misa.

She shrugs. “Mochi was talking to a bunch of people about being my manager. I told him to come dance with me and he wouldn’t. Dunno what happened then.”

Matsuda pictures Mogi dancing and laughs. “Not sure this is his kind of… of scene.”

“Nooo. Not Raito’s either.” Misa kind of smirks, like she thinks that’s funny. “Hey, hey, Matsu, let’s get another bottle of wine, huh?”

The drink’s wearing off a bit; Matsuda’s shaking his head: “Nuh-uh. You should… I mean, party’s over. It’s… it’s yours and Raito’s time now. He’ll be, he’ll be coming back to –” 

He’s still speaking but Misa’s scrambled to her feet, grabbing his hands: “Oh, Matsu should, you should come and see, I went and peeked earlier, it’s so pretty!” Dragging him across the dance floor, out of the main room. Out in the foyer it’s much quieter, his ears throb with the lack of music. Everything’s clean and neat and classy out here – elegant flower arrangements on tables, silver-trimmed mirrors, thick carpet muffling the noise. Matsuda catches a glimpse of him and Misa in one of the mirrors. Misa looks almost ghostly, the dim light turning her hair silver, a girl in a fairytale. He just looks kind of drunk and lost, which, to be fair, he is.

They’re hurrying up a flight of wide stairs and along another corridor and then Misa’s fumbling in the little clutch bag she somehow hasn’t lost during the evening and unlocking a door and Matsuda realises where they are and he feels like an idiot, that she thinks he’s too much of a loser to leave alone, she’s showing him the bridal suite because she’s too polite to ditch him –

It’s filled with flowers, and tall white candles, and she’s already hurrying over to one of them and grabbing the lighter on the table, and Matsuda doesn’t think she should be messing about with fire so he’s following her inside: “Hey, Misa-Misa, let me –” Not that his hands are much steadier but he doesn’t knock the candle over or anything. Soft light. He puts the lighter back down on the table and shoves his hands in his pockets and says, “So, I’ll say goodnight, yeah, I had a great time, and, and I…” Saying _I’m wishing you every happiness_ sounds way too pompous but he doesn’t get a chance to attempt it, Misa’s looking at him almost sadly and then she’s taken one step towards him, yanked him down to her level and then they’re kissing.

She’s warm and tastes of champagne and the heat and noise of the evening have slid into this like it was always going to happen, or like he’s dozed off and this is just another fantasy (it’s not the first time he’s thought about kissing Misa-Misa, even if only when he’s half-asleep), and his hands are on her waist and he feels the sequins of her dress itchy under his hands and it’s her _wedding night_ and he shouldn’t be here –

“Misa,” he says – and it’s good he’s saying it, it means his lips aren’t on hers any more – “Misa. Uh. Sorry, I should, you should…” The drink and the rush of blood are making it hard to remember words. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

She looks at him – almost squints at him, swaying a little – but she doesn’t look like she’s going to haul off and slap him, she doesn’t even look like she’s horrified by kissing another man on her wedding night. She looks like… like she knew it was going to end up this way. 

“I should go and find Raito,” he says.

Misa shakes her head.

“He’ll come when he wants to,” she says. “He, he, that was the deal. He agreed to get married but… he didn’t… I mean... he needs me. He needs – he loves me very much, but…”

Matsuda’s staring at her and kind of shaking his head, no one should be talking like this on their wedding night, she doesn’t know what she’s saying, Raito _does_ love her very much and so he should be here, Matsuda’s just stuck around too long and somehow ruined it, somehow can’t find his way back…

“Of course he loves you,” he says, trying to sound confident and competent and _sober_ , he’s still too hot, like the candle flame’s a fire, “you’re just tired out from all the dancing, you should have some water and, and put your feet up and he’ll show up really soon, okay? He loves you and you love him and you just… got confused.”

Misa looks at him pityingly like she can’t believe he’s this dumb, but she doesn’t say anything cutting, she just nods. “Sure thing, Matsu.”

She goes into the bathroom and he hears her dress unzip, the rustling of clothing, he tries not to think about anything, he _really_ should just leave but she looks, she looks so sad. He should leave and blow out the candle as he goes. But when she comes back out, in a cream-and-silk-and-lace nightgown thing, she smiles again at him, looking tired now: “I’m glad you’re here. Stay til he comes?”

He thinks he falls asleep with her. He’s pretty sure that nothing else happens. Well, he’s pretty sure that they don’t kiss or, or anything else. He sits down on the bed and it’s like the last few bubbles of energy pop and his eyes are almost closing. Misa whispers, “Stay,” and he thinks, he thinks he remembers thinking, she’s lonely, no one should be that lonely, she’s curled up in crisp hotel sheets and cuddled up in them, she lies against him, and he puts his arms round her, rests his head on hers. He should have left, but no one should be that lonely. 

There’s a dream, later. He dreams that he’s here, and she’s asleep in his arms, and Raito is standing looking down at them both, but he’s not angry or shocked, he just smiles at Matsuda, so warmly, and says, _Thank you._

And Matsuda follows him out of the room and the corridor is dark and silent and it goes on too long, as if they’re walking behind the walls of the hotel, or as if they’re somewhere else entirely.

He wakes up sprawled on a sofa in the foyer, his neck aching, his _head_ aching, his mouth dry and sticky. An unimpressed-looking chambermaid tells him it’s five in the morning. He can’t remember when he last looked at the time, but he’s pretty sure he’s only had a few hours of sleep. He gets a taxi and goes to a 24-hour Starbucks, orders a large black coffee, sits watching his reflection and wondering how much of last night was a dream. He hoped someone remembered to blow the candle out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for 12daysChristmas on LiveJournal, prompt "nine burning candles".


End file.
